


A Nine Hour Nightmare

by HyperactivePuppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel Has Panic Attacks, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Human Castiel, Miserable Castiel, Miserable Sam, More Sammy torture, Motion Sickness, Panic Attacks, Poor sick Cas, Protective Dean Winchester, Quite a lot of vomiting, Scared Cas, Sick Castiel, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, So be warned, Supernatural sickfic, Train Rides, Vomit, stomach flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-02-07 05:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12834111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperactivePuppy/pseuds/HyperactivePuppy
Summary: What was originally going to be a relaxing train ride turns into a nine-hour nightmare when Sam gets violently ill from a stomach virus less than an hour into the trip. On top of a vomiting little brother, Dean has to deal with a newly-human, motion sick Cas.Set around the beginning of season 9 when Cas first becomes human. I know it might not fit perfectly with the timeline of events at that time, but I kept it rather general so the details can be filled in.





	1. Chapter 1

A nine-hour train ride. That was better than flying, wasn’t it? Yes, Dean thought to himself as he lugged his duffle onto the platform. He knew the only reason Sam had suggested the train was to keep _him_ from having to face his fear of flying. He was grateful for his brother’s concern, even though he would never admit it to his face.

“Is this where we are supposed to be sitting?” Castiel was staring down at three crumpled tickets in his hand. His forehead was scrunched up in concentration and he had a confused look on his face.

Dean chuckled and took one of the tickets from Cas. “The number tells you what row you are sitting in and the letter tells you your seat,” he explained.

“Oh…” Cas said slowly, looking down at the other two tickets in his hand. “Okay.” Satisfied with Dean’s answer, he picked up his own duffle and climbed up the steps onto the train. 

Dean glanced over his shoulder, wondering what was keeping his younger brother, Sam. While they waited for the train, Sam had slipped off to one of the nearby shops, claiming he wanted to stretch his legs. At the time, it had seemed fairly normal as he knew his brother hated trying to fit his long legs into the small space in front of the seats. Still, Sam had been gone a long time and he was beginning to worry.

Just as he was about to go in search of his brother, a tall man with shaggy brown hair emerged from the crowds milling around the station.

“Sam!” Dean called, hoping to catch his brother’s attention.

Sam’s head snapped up and he gave Dean a slightly forced smile. “Hey,” he replied as he drew level with his brother.

“What took you so long? The train is about to leave!” Dean said, waving wildly at the cabin nearest them.

“Ah…lost track of time,” Sam said, pushing past Dean and stepping onto the train car.

Dean didn’t buy the excuse for a second but followed his brother onto the train in silence.

Once they had stowed their luggage in the bag racks at the back of their car, the three of them took their seats and settled down for the trip.

Sam pulled his laptop out of his bag and plugged it into the wall. Dean noted with some surprise that he didn’t open the cover, instead settling back in his seat and closing his eyes. Well, it had been a long few days. Their last hunt, over a few very troublesome vengeful spirits, hadn’t left any of them much time to sleep.

He turned to Cas, remembering suddenly how very human the ex-angel had become. Would he remember to sleep? Did one have to think about it that much? Cas looked pretty tired. His face was paler than usual and there were dark smudges under his eyes.

“Hey Cas, I’m going to try for some shuteye. Maybe you should take a little nap too?”

Cas looked up in what could only be described as surprised confusion and tilted his head slightly to the side.

Dean couldn’t help but grin. “Sleep, Cas. You look tired, man. I think we all need some rest after that last hunt.” 

Cas frowned, but closed his eyes and leaned his head back into his chair.

Dean shook his head, shifting down in his own seat to get comfortable.

~*~

Sam woke to the steady sound of the train speeding across the metal tracks. He shifted in his seat, wondering how long they had been travelling for. Both Dean and Cas appeared to be asleep and the train car was quiet. He sighed, lifting a tired hand to run through his dishevelled hair. For some reason, he wasn’t feeling that well and he closed his eyes again, hoping the feeling would go away. It didn’t. Not that things ever really happened that easily for him anyway.

Deep down he had known something was off. He had been unusually tired since he woke up that morning and his appetite had disappeared soon after.

The train whizzed around a corner and Sam felt his stomach drop. A cold sweat broke out across his face and he swallowed hard. The nausea was only getting worse and he could no longer ignore its presence. Asking for help was humiliating, but it was still the far lesser evil when compared with throwing up all over himself. 

Sitting by the window had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he would have to climb over both Dean and Cas to get to the bathroom. Even in the slim chance that he _could_ make it to the bathroom in time. No…he would have to wake Dean.

Reaching over the armrest, he tapped his brother lightly on the shoulder. “Dean?” he whispered.

Dean stirred, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep.

“Dean,” Sam said again, more urgently this time. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and was fighting the urge to gag.

“Mmph… Sammy what?” Dean mumbled, still half asleep. His eyes blinked open and he ran a hand down his face. It was then that he got his first glance at Sam’s face and his ‘older brother’ instinct was immediately activated.

Now fully awake, he asked urgently, “You okay, Sammy? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t feel too good…” Sam answered, swallowing thickly.

That was definitely an understatement. Sam didn’t look well at all.

“Ah… okay, hold on, Bud,” Dean said, reaching forward and quickly rummaging through the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“Dean!” Sam cried urgently, a hand flying to his mouth.

“Damn!” Dean cursed, wrenching the entire contents of the pocket out and dumping it on his lap. He seized the plain white motion sickness bag and ripped it open, thrusting it at his brother just as he gagged.

Sam grabbed the bag and held it up to his mouth, coughing raggedly as he heaved up the contents of his stomach.

“Aw Sammy…” Dean sighed, rubbing his hand up and down his brother’s back. He hated seeing his little brother get sick and wished he could do more than hold him steady until the worst passed.

Sam coughed and groaned into the bag, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see the ugly pattern on the train’s seats. He didn’t understand why they had to decorate the seats with such an atrocious pattern. It made him feel dizzy.

“You done?” Dean asked after a few minutes of Sam’s heavy breathing.

“Yeah…” Sam mumbled, pulling the bag away and leaning back in his seat. He felt hot and shivery and his throat ached from the merciless stomach acid.

Without a word, Dean took the used bag and tied the top, setting it down on the floor at his feet.

 Sam groaned softly and dragged a shaking hand across his mouth.

“Gross, dude…” Dean groused, but Sam could tell he was concerned. 

He didn’t reply, only closing his eyes and turning his head away from Dean. He just wanted to sleep.

Dean sighed softly and reached over to tap Cas’ shoulder.

“Dean, what?” Cas was immediately awake, looking around with wide eyes; clearly searching for danger.

“Shh, don’t worry. It’s nothing,” Dean said quickly when he realised how startled Castiel was. “I just need to get by you. 

Cas slowly settled back into his seat, the fear fading from his eyes. “Ah…sorry Dean. I am afraid I am still unused to sleeping…”

“It’s alright,” Dean said with a chuckle. He undid his seatbelt and picked up the vomit bag from the floor as Castiel moved out of his seat.

It didn’t take long to slip into the bathroom at the end of the cabin and dispose of the used bag. Dean picked up a few fresh ones from the little pocket in the bathroom wall before heading down to the refreshments car. He picked up a bottle of ginger ale for Sam, coffees for himself and Cas, and a couple of plastic cups.

By the time he returned to his seat, Sam appeared to be sleeping fitfully and Cas was flipping through his phone. He looked up at a soft greeting from Dean and quickly moved out of his seat to let his friend by.

Dean smiled his thanks and handed one of the coffees over to Cas.

He took a long sip of his own drink and leaned back in his chair. He was hoping Sam’s illness was a once off thing and he would feel better when he awoke.

This, he soon learned, was not the case. One moment Sam was sleeping peacefully and the next he was jumping out of his seat and trying to shove past Dean.

“Whoa, Sam! It’s okay,” Dean said, trying to grab Sam’s arm. But his younger brother had all but jumped over his feet, shoved past a very surprised Cas, and was racing down the coach to the bathroom.

Dean cursed and started to get to his feet, but realised halfway that Sam probably wanted some privacy. With a sigh, he sank back down into his seat.

Cas was staring after Sam with large blue eyes, still looking very confused. “Is he okay?” he asked.

“Mm…he isn’t feeling well. I think he might be coming down with something, or else it’s the motion of the train…”

Cas looked worried. “I did not realise Sam was sick. He was acting strange earlier but I thought he was just tired.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean confessed. He felt bad that he hadn’t realised what was bothering his brother earlier, but seriously, Sam hadn’t given him much to go on.

 

~*~

 

Sam thanked God no one else was in the bathroom as he yanked open the door and pulled it shut behind him. He slid the lock across and fell to his knees, leaning over the metal toilet. The bathroom was so small he could barely fit without tucking his long legs completely underneath himself. On top of that, the floor was shaking back and forth, adding to the turmoil in his stomach and making it hard to stay upright over the toilet.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, bracing one hand against the gross floor and latching the other onto the toilet seat. Never could he have imagined such a disgusting and miserable situation that did not involve some form of the supernatural. Groaning miserably, he leant forward and spat into the toilet. He could feel sweat dripping down his forehead where his mostly-grown-out fringe was already damply clinging.

 _Please let this end soon_ , he thought as a sharp gag tore itself through his throat. He coughed and spat again and then he was heaving; spilling the contents of his stomach into the small metal toilet.

It was a few minutes before he was able to lean back, resting his head against the greasy wall. He didn’t feel much better though. If anything, that latest round of vomiting had made him feel even worse.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Sam was able to stand shakily from the dirty bathroom floor, wash his hands in the tiny sink, and stumble back into the train cabin. The ten or so metres back to his seat had his head reeling and his stomach churning again.

To his great relief, Dean and Cas had moved over so that Cas was now sitting in the window seat, and Dean in the middle. Sam sank down into the aisle seat and leaned forward so that his head rested on his knees.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, leaning over and feeling his brother’s pulse. It was slightly fast, but what really worried Dean was the amount of heat radiating off his brother’s skin. “Sam, you’re burning up,” he muttered, resting his hand on Sam’s forehead and brushing back the sweat soaked hair.

“Cas, can you pass me the ginger ale?” A moment later the bottle was in his hand. Thanking Cas quickly, Dean poured some of the bubbly liquid into a cup and set it on the little tray table in front of him. “Sammy, can you try drinking some of this?”

Sam groaned and shook his head. “Don’t feel good…”

“I know, bud, but I want you to try.”

Sam finally relented and took a tiny sip of the drink. He swallowed hard and pushed the cup back at Dean, laying back in his seat and squeezing his eyes closed.

The next few hours passed in much the same way with Sam taking frequent trips to the bathroom and Dean passing him motion sickness bags when he just couldn’t make it. The people around them were starting to get a little annoyed and some looked a bit concerned. Dean didn’t fail to glare at the angry ones. After all, his brother couldn’t help that he was sick.

Now, Sam was gagging weakly into a bag Dean had handed him fifteen minutes before and making soft miserable grunting noises. Dean could sympathise. He had definitely felt this way while flying to Scotland to retrieve Crowley’s bones and he just wished he could take the pain away from Sammy.

Dean was whispering gentle reassurances to Sam when he felt a sharp tug on his jacket followed by a low, “Dean?”

“Yeah Cas?” Dean said, still focussing on Sam. Castiel had been very quiet throughout the past few hours and Dean had assumed the ex-angel was asleep.

“I do not like this motion.” Cas was silent for a moment, clearly thinking. “It makes my stomach feel…unsettled.”

Dean turned, a look of fear in his green eyes. With a sinking heart, he watched Cas’ face take on a ghostly greenish tinge as he gagged silently.

“Okay…Okay umm…hold on Cas,” he said, trying not to panic. He turned to Sam, praying his brother would be alright while he lunged for a motion sickness bag and ripped it open.

Cas’ eyes were wide as Dean shoved the bag in front of his face. “Dean, wha—” he started to ask before being cut off as a stream of liquid poured from his mouth. He coughed, trying to catch his breath as fear gripped his heart. Was this how Sam had been feeling? How awful… Would he have to go through the same thing? His heart clenched at the thought of spending the next many hours hunched over the toilet in some grungy train bathroom.

“Shh, hey, you’re okay, Cas,” Dean was saying, rubbing his hand gently up and down Castiel’s back. He felt the muscles tense beneath his fingers, but Cas only coughed once more before pulling back and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his trench coat.

“Aw, gross Cas,” Dean complained.

“Sam did it…” Cas argued weakly.

“Yeah well, Sam’s disgusting.”

~*~

 

Dean had just tied off the used bag when Sam’s head bobbed into view. He looked across at Dean with bleary eyes, sniffing loudly. “Cas threw up,” he stated blandly, looking as if he was about to pass out.

“Yeah, he’s okay, I’ve got him. You just rest,” Dean said gently. He didn’t need Sam worrying about Cas when he could barely keep his own head up.

Sam glanced over at Cas’ huddled form and groaned, rubbing a hand across his sweaty forehead. “Mm okay. Help him. Isn’ use’t te bein’ sick,” Sam slurred incoherently.

Something cold and horrible settled in Dean’s stomach. Sam’s eyes were drooping closed and his head kept bobbing against his shoulder. “It’s okay Sammy, just close your eyes.” More than anything Sam needed sleep and Dean was determined to get his little brother resting.

Sam was in no condition to argue, and despite his own wishes, he felt his eyes slipping closed as his head dropped onto Dean’s shoulder.

With a sigh of relief, Dean glanced over at Cas and smiled when he saw the ex-angel’s chest rising and falling steadily with the rhythm of his breathing. He was asleep.

~*~

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! Hope you enjoy ^.^

The rest of the trip passed without conflict. Sam’s exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with his body and he snored lightly through the last few hours of the train ride. Dean didn’t even give him hell over the drool that now pooled all over his new flannel.

Cas too slept for a while and when he awoke he was able to drink a little of Sam’s ginger ale. To Dean’s utmost relief, the angel seemed fine, if not a little tired, and didn’t even mention feeling sick.

When they finally arrived at their platform, Dean could hardly bear to wake Sam. His brother looked exhausted and fever-induced-sweat still coated his forehead and neck. 

“Hey…Sammy?” He gently shook his brother’s shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

Sam groaned and shifted a little in his seat.

Dean glanced at Cas and tried again. “Sam? I know you want to sleep, but we have to get off the train now.”

Another groan. “Coulda’ sworn we hadda few more hours…” Sam mumbled sleepily, cracking one eye open.

Dean laughed and shoved Sam’s shoulder gently. Maybe a lighter tone would help. 

Sam made no verbal response, but lifted himself up in his seat and shoved his tangled, sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He sat there for a full minute before attempting to stand. Dean held out a helpful hand immediately, but his brother pushed it aside, moving down the aisle on his own.

Shrugging his shoulders, Dean followed, only stopping to collect their bags at the back of the train carriage.

Now they only had to pick up a rental car to get to a hotel. Dean had already made the executive decision that they would be staying at a higher-end hotel rather than the old run-down motels they usually spent the night at. With at least one of them down sick, he wanted the luxury of clean towels and a bigger room—hopefully with a nice large bathroom. 

He was just running through a mental grocery list when Castiel’s gravelly voice snapped him out of his musings. 

“Maybe you should sit down…”

Dean looked over to see Cas trying to push a pale, swaying Sam down onto a bench.

“’Mm fine Cas. Let’s just go get our car,” Sam said tiredly.

“Dude, sit down before you fall down,” Dean intervened, pushing his brother down onto the bench. “I’ll go and get the car. You just rest here.”

Sam made a noise that sounded like a feeble protest, but he was too tired to argue further. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench in an attempt to slow the spinning of the room.

With a few whispered words to Cas, Dean got up and left to join the long line for rental cars. As much as he wanted to stay with Sam, he didn’t trust Cas when it came to inconspicuously registering the car, so he had decided to leave his friend to watch his brother and the bags.

More than anything Sam wanted to curl up on the bench, but he could already feel eyes watching him and the embarrassment of appearing weak was still too strong to let him give in to how sick he felt. He had hoped he would feel better after sleeping, but his stomach was churning ominously again and his head throbbed with pain. Shivers wracked his body despite the many layers of clothing he was wearing, making the dizziness worse.

Despite it all, Sam knew this was mild compared to the mortification he would feel if his stomach actually chose to rebel. What he felt now was horrible, but nothing could compare with the terror of getting sick in that busy, bustling train station. So he kept his eyes squeezed shut and fought against the nausea, even as it grew steadily worse.

A little while later, Sam felt Cas lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and say something in a low voice. He tried to listen, he really did, but giant burning waves of nausea were sloshing around in his stomach and he could feel his breathing begin to quicken. Suddenly he felt way too hot.

“Cas…” He tried to say, but all that came out was a strangled gag. He had to do something. Now. He was going to be sick and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Saliva was pooling in his mouth, ratcheting up his gag reflex until he had to bite his tongue to keep his mouth closed.

Dean would know what to do. Dean always knew what to do. But he wasn’t there.

Cas was speaking again, probably asking if he was okay, but Sam was far beyond okay now. Despite every effort of his, he felt his stomach lurch and he dry heaved into his hand. Gulping back terror, he tried to push himself up from the bench but he was too dizzy to stand and his stomach was already heaving. Panic gripped his stomach as liquid shot up his throat and spilled over his fingers into his lap.

He heard his name being called. Cas again. It didn’t matter though, no one could help him now. A painful cramp tore through his stomach and Sam whimpered as he threw up again. Warm, disgusting, liquid was soaking into his jeans and Sam wanted to sob with humiliation. He could feel hands on his shoulders, steering him so that he was leaning over the side of the bench. Another mouthful of vomit splattered onto the floor and Sam coughed as he tried to catch his breath.

“Sam. Sam can you hear me?” Cas asked, and Sam could hear the fear in his low voice.

“Ye—aghh...” he tried to answer but broke off as another gag tore through his throat.

“I-I’m going to get Dean.” Cas’ voice was shaking.

Yes. Dean would know what to do, Sam thought. He felt Cas’ hand leave his shoulder and shivered a little at the loss of contact. He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Voices were speaking around him, scared and concerned. Sam felt someone sit next to him and then a bucket was being placed in front of his face. He mumbled a thank you and hunched over the plastic bucket, eyes closed.

Someone was rubbing his back and Sam suddenly realised he was crying. Tears ran down his cheeks, slipping into his half-open mouth. He swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears, but the salty taste only made him cry harder. 

Then Dean was there, sitting on his other side and holding him close. He could hear a woman’s voice, talking worriedly to Dean.

“He’s very sick…is he travelling with you?”

“Yes, he’s my brother.” Dean’s voice was strong and steady. Not overreacting or dripping with sympathy. That was how Sam liked it.

“He was sick on the train. I think he has some sort of stomach virus…”

The woman was nodding, taking in the new information. She looked down at Sam, wincing in sympathy. “Here, take these.” She pulled a packet of baby wipes out of her purse and handed them to Dean.

“Thanks…” Dean said. His eyes darted over to the now _very_ long line up for rental cars. 

“Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?” the woman asked, picking up on Dean’s thoughts.

Dean sighed but thought over the list of hunters he knew anyway. None of them lived in this area. Except… Yes! He remembered receiving an email from Charlie the week before saying she was living in Salt Lake City now.

“Yes, actually,” he answered with a smile of relief. He needed to get Sam to a bed as soon as possible and the thought of bypassing the rental car line was a much-needed relief.

“Alright,” the woman said and got up to leave. “My train is leaving, but I hope you make it there okay. Take care of your brother.” She smiled at Sam before disappearing into the crowd.

“Okay,” Dean said, leaning over to ruffle Sam’s hair as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hang in there, bud. I’m just going to call Charlie and then we can get out of here.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is completely miserable and poor Cas gets sick as well. Dean is left to deal with them...
> 
> This chapter is mostly sick Cas, and Charlie also comes into the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I have been crazy busy and haven't had any time to write. Anyway, here is chapter 3, hope you enjoy! :)

Dean held the phone in his left hand, keeping the other resting on his brother’s shaking back. After only a few short rings there was a pause and then a cheerful female voice said, “hello?”

“Charlie,” Dean said, relief flooding his face.

“Dean is everything okay?” Charlie asked. She sounded worried and Dean cringed.

“Ahh...You’re still living in Salt Lake City, right?”

“Yes, Dean, but I would appreciate it if you just cut to the chase and told me what’s wrong. I’m kind of freaking out over here.”

Dean sighed. “Sorry…Yeah, we were heading that way for a hunt, but things aren’t exactly going as planned.” He glanced over at Sam who had his eyes glued to the floor. “Sammy must have gotten some sort of stomach flu. It’s not pretty.” He paused, taking another breath. “He’s really sick and I really need to get him someplace with a bed.” Dean left the sentence hanging, not wanting to push this on Charlie.

“Poor Sam…Where are you?” Charlie demanded from the other side of the phone.

She had that determined voice on. The one that made Dean smile when no one was looking. “At the train station at the North end of town.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. You can crash at my place until Sam’s feeling better.”

Dean let out a long pent-up sigh of relief. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“No worries, now take care of your brother.”

The line went dead and Dean hung up the phone.

Sam had his eyes closed and had hunched over the plastic bucket again.

“Hey,” Dean said, reaching over and brushing some of the hair out of his brother’s face. “You still feeling gross?”

Sam nodded but didn’t dare to open his mouth.

“Okay,” Dean said gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little.” He took out the packet of wipes the woman had given him and set to work cleaning up Sam’s face.

He knew Sam was mortified and he didn’t blame him, but right now his brother was in no frame of mind to do this alone.

Still murmuring soft words to his brother, Dean stripped off Sam’s jacket and outer shirt – leaving him in his dark grey t-shirt. The pants would have to wait until later, but Dean did his best to wipe off as much vomit as he could with the remaining wipes.

Sam was shivering, and Dean wished he had a blanket or something for his ailing brother.

“What did Charlie say?” Castiel asked and Dean started, having forgotten the angel was there. 

“She’ll be here any time now,” Dean answered, and as if on cue, an auburn head bobbed into view.

Charlie’s eyes swept the scene and she grimaced, noticing the stains on the floor in front of the bench. “Wow, Dean really wasn’t kidding. You look terrible, Sam,” she said, frowning at the younger Winchester.

“Feel terrible,” Sam mumbled and Charlie was shocked to hear him admit defeat like that. He must be really sick.

“Okay, the car is just out on the street,” Charlie said, motioning to the double glass doors as she turned back to Dean. “Cas and I will take the bags if you want to help Sam.”

Dean nodded gratefully. Sam still wasn’t looking at him, but he slid an arm around his brother’s waist and hefted him up. God, he was heavy.

“Damn it, Sammy, you’ve got to help a little,” he gasped as the two of them staggered towards the doors.

Somehow, they managed to get to the car in one piece and soon Sam was settled in the back seat with a towel over his lap and a bucket clutched to his chest. Dean took the seat next to his brother while Cas sat up front with Charlie.

“Okay, it isn’t far. Just tell me if you need to stop,” Charlie told Sam, who was only half paying attention.

By the time they pulled up in front of Charlie’s quaint little bungalow, Sam had fallen into an uneasy sleep. 

Charlie went to unlock the door while Dean lifted his little brother out of the car and manoeuvred him into the house. Sam was only half coherent and Dean frowned at the heat radiating off his brother as he lay him down on the couch in Charlie’s living room. The fever had definitely risen.

“Can you get me a cold cloth?” he asked quietly as Charlie knelt beside him.

“Yeah of course.” Charlie disappeared into the bathroom and Dean turned back to his brother as he gave a low groan.

“Cold,” Sam mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself as he shivered harder.

“I know, but you have a fever, Sammy. We need to cool you down.”

As if in response to Dean’s statement, Charlie returned at that moment with a wet cloth and a bowl of ice water. Her forehead was creased with worry and her eyes had a lost sort of dullness to them.

Dean whispered a thank you and took the cloth from her, his eyes regretful as he touched the fabric to his brother’s forehead. 

Sam whimpered and turned away, flinching as the wet cloth burned against his freezing skin. “Too cold. Dean c-cold.” 

Dean hated doing this to his brother—hated every minute of it, but if he didn’t get Sam’s fever down soon, things could get really bad. No, he corrected himself, even worse. Things were already really bad.

It took a while, but Dean and Charlie finally managed to get some Nurofen into Sam along with half a glass of Gatorade. He was still dehydrated, but that was the most he had been able to keep down for hours. Sam was now resting fitfully on the couch with a clean bucket on the floor next to him.

The other three had retired to their rooms – Charlie to her own room and Dean and Cas to the guest room upstairs.

Dean had finally drifted off to sleep when he was awoken by a gruff voice calling his name. He groaned and rolled over, shoving his face into the pillow. Maybe if he ignored it, the voice would go away. It didn’t.

“Dean,” the voice called, more insistently this time. Dean sighed and lifted his head from the pillow. “What, Cas? It’s like three am.”

Cas was silent and Dean turned to look at his friend. He had a funny look on his face and was sitting sort of hunched over on the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, as Cas still hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know…” Cas said, and Dean was alarmed to catch the note of fear in the angel’s voice. “I am feeling a discomfort again.” He looked down at the floor, shifting his socked feet across the carpet.

“You feel sick?” Dean asked, trying to clarify. Cas had talked about a lot of ‘discomforts’ since he had become human. He was really hoping this one wasn’t what he suspected.

Cas shrugged his shoulders then nodded slowly. “I thin—” He started, but before he could finish the sentence, he lunged forward and was violently sick on the carpet.

Dean was up and off the bed in a second. “No—Cas—ahh—shit!” he raced around to Cas’ side, trying to wrestle the angel into the bathroom. 

Cas groaned and coughed up another mouthful of vomit onto Dean’s shirt. Great, now he would have to wash that too. Gritting his teeth, Dean dragged a still retching Cas into the bathroom and pushed him down in front of the toilet.

Cas sat there swaying, his eyes wide and terrified. “De—” he warned, trying to lean over the toilet as he heaved again. He ended up missing completely and let out a loud sob of despair.

Dean could tell the angel was scared. He didn’t have much experience with illness. Heck, the motion sickness on the train had probably been his first experience with vomiting. Dean cringed. No wonder the guy was so freaked out.

“Hey, Cas, it’s okay. Deep breaths, okay buddy?”

Cas was shivering and Dean could see tears shimmering in his blue eyes. He placed a hand on the angel’s back. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Thank God Sam wasn’t there. Dean knew the words flowing from his mouth were dangerously close to Chick Flick territory, but this was _Cas_. He was terrified and Dean didn’t care how he sounded right then.

“Dean, what’s…h-happening,” Cas gasped. He was leaning forward with his head almost inside the toilet, terrified of moving again.

“You’re sick, bud,” Dean explained, rubbing his hand gently across Cas’ back. “You must've caught whatever Sam has.” He frowned, glancing over at the clock on the bathroom wall. 3:24 am, the green letters claimed. Dean sighed.

“Were you feeling unwell earlier? Or did this just come on suddenly.”

Cas thought for a moment, his head still resting on the rim of the toilet seat. “Felt fine earlier, but when I woke up…” He gestured around himself.

“You felt like puking your guts up,” Dean answered for him.

“Mmhm…” Cas was breathing hard again, Dean could hear his pants echoing in the toilet bowl.

“Just let it happen, bud,” he murmured, running his hand through Cas’ sweaty hair.

“Don—n’t want…to,” Cas said brokenly. But no matter how hard the angel tried, a minute later he was retching helplessly over the toilet bowl.

Dean rubbed his back and glanced again at the clock. 3:32am. This was going to be a long night.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a huge thank you to all of the people who have read this story and left comments and kudos. I always wrote stories like this just for myself and only recently decided to post them. I wasn't expecting anyone to actually read them. So thank you. I'm glad to be able to share them with you all :). 
> 
> And now for chapter 4! This one is a little gross...so be warned ;). Hope you enjoy! ^.^

At 4:27 am—after an hour spent in the bathroom with Cas—Dean finally managed to drag the miserable angel back into the bedroom. Cas could barely stand he was so exhausted and his eyes kept drifting closed as Dean manoeuvred him onto the bed and under the covers.

“Alright, there we go,” Dean said softly, pulling the duvet up around Cas’ trembling shoulders. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He gave Cas a reassuring smile and got up from the bed.

More than anything Dean wanted to take advantage of the last few hours of darkness and crawl back to bed next to Cas, but the rancid smell of vomit kept wafting up from the carpet and prodding him to take over clean-up duty first.

With a sigh that rivalled Sam’s when he was annoyed, Dean set to work scrubbing the carpet. He didn’t have any cleaning supplies, but shampoo from the adjoining bathroom seemed to work marginally well. There was still a slight discolouration to the carpet, but at that point, Dean decided it was good enough. Setting the dirty sponge and water in the corner, Dean slipped into the bathroom to wash his hands before crawling under the covers next to Cas.

Though now asleep, the angel was giving off more heat than a furnace and his fringe was plastered to his forehead in dark clumps. Dean leaned over and brushed some of the sweaty hair aside, unable to stop himself. Cas looked so vulnerable and innocent lying there under the mound of covers. Dean had never seen him look so… _human_ and it made his heartache.

“Sleep well,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

~*~ 

The next morning arrived far too early for Sam’s liking. It was the chirp of a sparrow that woke him and he would have liked to go back to sleep if his stomach hadn’t decided to churn forebodingly. With a groan, he rolled over on the couch so his head was leaning over the edge. He felt too weak to get up and doubted he could find his way to Charlie’s bathroom in time anyway. He was pretty sure Dean had left a bucket next to the couch last night. He just had to find it…

Reaching over the side of the sofa, Sam searched around blindly for the bucket and tried to ignore the way his insides seemed to be crawling up his throat to join the pooling saliva in his tightly closed mouth. Damn it! Where had Dean put the bucket?

In desperation, Sam lifted his head as high as the dizziness would allow and croaked out a choked, “Dean." 

There was no response and Sam gave a panicked groan as his stomach lurched and he dry heaved over the carpet.

“Sam?” someone called and Sam risked opening his mouth one last time to call out, “Dean…Bucket!" 

And then he heaved, eyes filling with tears as the rancid liquid poured from his mouth. He expected to hear the vomit spattering on the carpet, but when he opened his eyes, he found someone was kneeling in front of him and holding a bucket under his chin.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, spitting into the bowl and lying back on the couch. 

“Just take it easy,” the person said, and Sam was surprised to realise it was not Dean as he had assumed, but Charlie.

“Charlie?” he croaked, even though he knew it was her.

“Yeah, Sammy. How ya feelin’?”

“Ick…” Sam replied tiredly. “Where’s Dean?”

“Still in bed, can I get you anything?”

Sam shook his head and let his eyes fall shut again. “’m good.” 

“Okay, let me rinse this out for you and then I’ll be right back,” Charlie said as she got up and lifted the bucket from the floor.

When she returned, Sam was asleep and Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Morning Charlie,” he called. 

She grinned at him and slid into the chair across the table after returning Sam’s bucket. “How’d you sleep?” she asked quietly.

Dean groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Not good. Cas got sick around 3:30 and being new at the whole ‘human thing’ he didn’t quite make it to the bathroom…”

Charlie grimaced in sympathy. “Poor guy…how’s he doing now?”

“I dunno,” Dean admitted with a tired shake of his head. “He finally fell asleep around 4:30 and has been out since.”

There was a tense pause between them, broken only by the bubbling of Charlie’s stovetop coffee pot.

“Well, at least you’re still healthy,” Charlie pointed out in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, for now…I just hope we didn’t infect you by dragging two plague magnets into your house.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could help.” Charlie flashed Dean a warm smile as she slid out of her chair and stepped into the kitchen.

She returned a moment later with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which she set in front of Dean. “Figured you might need some caffeine,” she laughed in response to Dean’s grateful look.

She put her own cup down and returned to the kitchen to sort out breakfast while Dean sipped greedily at his coffee. 

“Are eggs okay?” she called a moment later, holding the frying pan above her head as she peeked around the fridge at Dean.

“Eggs are great.”

She nodded and went back to the stove, humming softly as she worked.

Dean was just settling down with Sam’s laptop and his cup of coffee when what was probably the most pitiful voice he had ever heard called out from the bedroom. 

“Dean?”

Dean felt like banging his head on the table so he wouldn’t be conscious to respond to the voice. But this was Cas…and he was scared…and Dean _couldn’t_ leave him like that.

With a huge sigh, Dean shut the laptop and got up from the table, calling to Charlie that he would be back in a couple of minutes.

Part of him, or more like all of him, began conjuring up images of what state the room would be in when he walked through that door. He’d long ago abandoned the hope that Cas would have actually thrown up _in the toilet_. But even knowing that didn’t stop the endless possibilities of horror. 

“Cas?” Dean asked softly. He was finally at the door. God, he wished he could just turn around and go back to his coffee. But Cas needed him. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Cas was sitting hunched over in bed, his blue eyes pooling with unshed tears. His mouth was hanging half open and there was drool—gross, bile streaked drool—dripping down his chin. “Dean,” he sobbed again. A shudder shook his hunched frame and a second later he was leaning forward and vomiting over the sheets and down his front.

Dean’s first instinct was to turn and run and _never_ return to that bedroom again. But when he caught site of Cas’ tear filled eyes, staring up at him with such terror, he found his feet dragging him towards the bad.

“Aw, Cas…” he murmured. There wasn’t much of the bed that was still clean, but Dean found a marginally unsoiled space and sat down next to Cas.

“’m sorry,” Cas choked out, the tears beginning to fall. He reached out and gripped Dean’s arm, pulling the hunter closer so that he could bury his face in his friend’s chest.

Dean tried not to gag at the rancid substance that had now transferred itself to his clean t-shirt. This was a whole new level of gross. “It’s okay, Cas. You’re sick. It happens to everyone.”

“Not you,” Cas sobbed.

“Of course, it does. Me and Sam get sick all the time. Remember what happened to Sam at the train station?”

Cas nodded but didn’t stop crying.

“You have to give yourself a bit of a break, bud. You’re new at all of this. There’s a lot of things you still have to learn about being human. And even then, you can’t control it when you’re sick.” Dean was rambling, he knew that. He really had no idea if any of the things he was saying would help Cas, but he couldn’t stand to see the angel crying like this.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Cas’ face still pressed into Dean’s chest. When at last his sobs finally slowed, Cas lifted his head stiffly and blinked up at Dean with wide, tearful eyes.

“Hey, see, you’re okay,” Dean reassured gently. “Want to go get cleaned up now?”

Cas nodded.

Dean smiled and slid off the bed, helping Cas out of the soiled covers and over to the bathroom. Once Cas was in the shower with the hot water on blast, Dean set about dealing with the mess. Knowing there was little he could do to scrape away the vomit, as it had already started to sink down into the bedding, he stripped the sheets and mattress cover off and dumped them in a heap by the door. The duvet cover was also filthy but by some miracle the actual duvet was still clean. He added the cover and pillowcases to the pile and almost as an afterthought stripped off his shirt and dumped it as well.

Dean wished he could shower as well, but as the bathroom was occupied, he made do with a clean shirt from his duffle. By the time he returned to the kitchen—tired and more than a little grumpy—Charlie was piling eggs onto plates at the table.

“Dare I ask?” she questioned, taking in Dean’s dishevelled appearance.

“Not for another thousand years,” Dean grumbled, pushing the plate of eggs away. Not even he could stomach food after what he had just been through.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas is having a really rough day... 
> 
> Warnings for vomit and panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...that was a really long gap in between updates. I'm so sorry for the long wait. School and work have a habit of eating up my writing time... *sigh* but here is chapter 5! Hope you enjoy :)

Dean still hadn’t touched his breakfast twenty minutes later when Cas appeared from the bathroom, looking shaky and miserable.

“Cas,” he said, immediately getting to his feet. The former angel was swaying slightly and Dean wasted no time in getting him into a chair. He let his hand drift across Castiel’s forehead, brushing away his damp hair. “You have a fever, bud. You still feeling sick?”

Castiel nodded, swallowing as the scent of Dean’s untouched eggs ramped up his nausea. He closed his eyes and let his head drop to the table. “Dean, I’m cold,” he mumbled.

“That’s just the fever talking,” Dean said, patting Cas on the shoulder as he turned back to look at the couch where Sam lay sprawled—fast asleep.

“He threw up once this morning but has slept soundly since,” Charlie piped up, sensing Dean’s train of thought.

Dean looked up, slightly surprised. He had forgotten Charlie was even there.

“That’s good…it’s probably just a 24-hour bug,” Dean said with a sigh. “Sam was sick most of yesterday and all night. So, Cas probably still has a day of this to go.” He glanced over at the miserable looking angel. 

“Sam’s probably okay to move to the bedroom now,” he added thoughtfully. “I think its best if we keep an eye on Cas...”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, Sam probably just needs some sleep now.”

With that decided, Dean helped his younger brother up and into the guest bedroom he and Cas had slept in. Sam was woozy and only half there, but at least he didn’t throw up again. Dean got him settled with some Gatorade and blankets and set a clean bucket on the bedside table just in case. 

When he stepped back into the kitchen, he found Cas in the exact same position he had left him. “Ready to lie down?” Dean asked, resting a hand on the angel’s shoulder to get his attention.

Cas nodded, lifting his head slowly from the table. His eyes were dull and glassy and Dean didn’t like how white his face looked. “Okay, just a few steps, I’ll help you,” he coaxed, lifting Cas up from the chair and putting his arm around the other man’s waist.

It wasn’t far to the couch, but Cas felt exhausted when he finally got there. The room had started spinning again and he could feel his stomach protesting angrily. He lay down on the couch, closing his eyes and hoping the now familiar—but no less horrible—feeling would go away. It didn’t.

“Dean,” he croaked, struggling to sit up. “Dean I feel—I think—” He broke off, gulping, but Dean was already in action. He watched as the ex-angel’s face turned from pasty white to pale green and was already reaching for the bucket.

“It’s okay, Cas,” he reassured, placing the bucket in the angel’s lap and positioning it under his chin. “You’ll feel better once you get it all out.”

Cas shuddered and shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes again. “I don’t—I don’t like it,” he gasped between gags.

“I know, bud,” Dean said, feeling his heart constrict with sympathy for the scared angel. “No one likes it. But you’ll feel better after. Promise, Cas. Then we can watch a movie.” 

Castiel groaned and grabbed Dean’s arm, gripping it tightly as he pitched forward over the bucket and dry heaved. “Dean I—Can’t,” Cas gasped. “I don’t…scared.” He coughed, his whole body shaking as he looked up at Dean in terror.

Dean was starting to feel a bit worried that Cas hadn’t brought anything up yet, especially with how scared the angel seemed at the prospect.

“It’s okay, Cas. Just relax, buddy. You’ve got yourself all worked up.” Dean ran a hand through Cas’ damp hair as he continued to hold the bucket under Cas’ chin with the other hand.

Despite Dean’s comfort, Cas was shaking harder now and his breath had quickened to the brink of hyperventilating. “Cas you have to calm down. You’re okay,” Dean whispered. He could feel the panic and raw fear flowing off of Cas, even as he tried to calm him.

Dean took a deep breath, clearing his mind and focussing on the issue at hand. He was no use to Cas if he was panicking too.

“Here, Cas. Look at me,” he instructed calmly. When Cas didn’t comply, Dean lifted the angel’s chin till he was looking up at him. “Alright, now try to match my breathing. See Cas?” He took a long, slow, breath, counting out loud, “one, two, three—now again.” He kept his hand on Cas’ back, rubbing gently. 

Cas was shaking his head, eyes wide and frantic. “C-can’t. D’n I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Cas. You can do it,” Dean said calmly. “Just try to focus on my breathing. Keep your eyes open and look at me. That’s it, you’re doing great.” Dean smiled as Cas gulped in a little air and then another breath.

After a few minutes of coaching and gentle reassurances, Cas managed to calm down enough to get some air into his lungs. He leaned against Dean, clinging tightly to the fabric of the hunter’s shirt. He was shaking so violently his teeth were chattering and Dean grabbed a blanket from the floor to wrap around the shivering angel.

“There, you’re okay now. Just breathe, Cas,” he whispered, setting the bucket to the side so he could hold Cas with both arms.

Cas closed his eyes, drawing in huge gulps of air like a fish finally released back into the water. He swallowed twice as the tears that had been held at bay by fear began to fall.

Dean’s heart broke at the gut-wrenching sobs that emanated from the scared angel. He wasn’t good with crying—especially when it was someone other than Sammy. But he held Cas close and stroked his hair as the angel sobbed uncontrollably.

“I know Cas…panic attacks can be really scary, huh? But you did great. You were so brave.” Dean didn’t know what he was saying. It didn’t really make sense and it sounded kind of cheesy but he was scared too and didn’t know how to help his distraught friend.

After a good ten minutes of solid crying, Cas seemed to relax, probably from sheer exhaustion rather than any lapse in fear, Dean guessed.

“Shh, you’re okay now,” he said, settling Cas back down on the couch and shoving one of the pillows under his head. “Just take it easy.”

Castiel’s eyes drifted closed and he just lay there silently, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.

Charlie, who had gone for a shower, suddenly appeared at his side, staring at Dean with concerned eyes. “Is he okay?” she mouthed.

“Panic attack,” Dean whispered back. “He started feeling sick and I thought he was going to hurl, but I think the whole thing just really freaked him out and he panicked. I guess it’s just all too much for him right now.” He sighed, feeling helpless and exhausted. “I don’t know what else to do…”

Charlie hummed in sympathy, kneeling down so she was next to Dean on the floor. “You did great, Dean. He just needs to rest now. Panic attacks really take it out of you—especially since he’s already sick.”

“Yeah…” Dean nodded and ran a shaky hand down his face. “God, that scared me. I hate seeing him so terrified and upset.” He looked over at Cas who was finally breathing evenly.

Charlie watched the older hunter’s gaze and smiled to herself at the affection she saw in his eyes. “Why don’t you go take a shower, Dean? No offense but you kind of stink.” She smiled good-naturedly and pulled a chair over to the couch. “I can watch Cas for now.”

Dean hesitated, not wanting to leave Cas. But he _did_ need a shower and Charlie was fully capable of looking after him for a few minutes. Cas probably wouldn’t even wake up. 

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly and got to his feet. “Thanks, Charlie.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all knew it was only a matter of time before Dean caught the virus...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...the final chapter is out! This story took way longer than it should have, but I hope you all enjoyed it :).

Dean sighed as the hot water ran down his back, washing away the sweat and tension that had built up over the past day. He hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep that night and he was exhausted. More than anything he wanted to curl up and sleep for a week—after he washed away every trace of sickness. Having watched his younger brother and Cas get sick multiple times over the past two days, he was starting to feel a little queasy himself. It made him angry that his stomach was affected by a little puke, but in all fairness, Cas really didn’t do well with the whole _keeping puke to yourself_ kind of thing. He shuddered and hoped Charlie was doing okay watching over the fallen angel.

It was a full twenty minutes later that Dean emerged from the shower. The hot water was starting to make him feel dizzy and he decided he had probably destroyed every germ left on his body. Sighing, he dressed in fresh clothes, brushed his teeth, and left the bathroom.

Cas was still lying where he had left him—asleep on the couch with a blanket clutched to his chest. Dean couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Feel better?” Charlie asked, looking up from the book she had been reading. She had an amused smile on her face and her tone was teasing. 

“Much,” Dean said, even though that wasn’t entirely true. He still felt kind of dizzy, even though the effect of the hot water should have worn off by then. He went over to the kitchen table and sank into one of the chairs, not really thinking about what he was doing. He just needed to sit down. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach and he lay his head on the table, resting his forehead against his crossed arms.

 _Oh hell, he didn’t feel well._ Since the train he had been praying that Sam’s virus wouldn’t get passed on to him, but his chances were looking less and less hopeful by the minute.

_Maybe it was just the lack of sleep? Or left-over nausea from Cas puking on him…_

Dean frantically tried to come up with excuses for his queasiness other than the obvious cause, but it soon became clear that they were hopeless wishes. His stomach was churning violently and he knew if he didn’t get to a bathroom soon, Charlie’s kitchen floor would soon be decorated with a lovely new coat of slightly digested eggs. 

That was the _wrong_ thing to think about. Dean’s stomach gave a lurch and he stumbled to his feet, knocking over the chair he had been sitting in. It fell with a crash and Charlie jumped to her feet with a surprised cry. 

“Dean, you okay?” she called, dashing into the kitchen.

Dean was bent over, holding a hand to his mouth and trying to breathe slowly. “Not feeling so good,” he mumbled around his hand before stumbling into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

~*~

 

 _It wasn’t fair_ , Dean thought as he crouched in front of the toilet, gagging up another mouthful of breakfast. He had tried _so_ hard not to get sick and now he was helpless on the bathroom floor.

A knock sounded on the door followed by a soft, “Dean?”

Oh yeah, and to make things even more humiliating, Charlie was there.

“‘M okay, be out in a minute,” he slurred before his words were cut off by another violent heave.

Charlie didn’t seem satisfied by his words, but at least she didn’t try to come into the bathroom. That would be beyond humiliating.

The minutes ticked by and after a while, Dean heard the sound of soft footsteps walking away from the door. Then the sound of Sam’s concerned voice.

Shit, now his brother knew he was sick.

There were a few minutes of hushed conversation that Dean couldn’t make out and then more footsteps, followed by a sharp knock on the door. 

“Dean? Charlie said you’re sick…can I come in?”

“What do you think?” Dean snapped back.

Sam seemed to hesitate before softly replying. “Please, I went through the same thing. I know how much it sucks. Can you please let me in?” Another pause, and then a chuckle. “Besides, it can’t be worse than throwing up in a packed train station.”

Dean had to admit his brother was right. Besides, he felt too sick to argue anymore. “Okay,” he mumbled.

The door creaked open and Sam stepped in, grimacing at the smell.

“Jeez, you don’t do anything lightly.”

“Shut up, it’s your fault I’m sick,” Dean groused.

Sam sighed and sank down onto the floor next to his brother. “Come on, let me help you. I can’t sleep knowing you’re alone in here puking your guts up.”

Dean mumbled something that sounding like “b-yrr-sick” but didn’t have the energy to push Sam away.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. I’m staying here anyway.”

Dean closed his eyes and nodded vaguely. He felt too sick to protest.

~*~

 

It was four full days before the three hunters were fully back on their feet. As predicted, Cas had spent the rest of the first day being violently sick—mostly in a bucket hastily held by Sam or Charlie as he still didn’t get the concept of going to the bathroom when he felt nauseous. There had been one unfortunate moment while they were watching a movie when Cas had woken up only to puke all over Sam. This had proved too much for the younger Winchester who was only just starting to feel slightly better. He had been forced to rush to the bathroom, leaving Cas to get sick over the couch and carpet. Poor Charlie had been on a supply run at the time and returned to a very shaky Sam trying to clean up the vomit while gagging weakly into his own bucket. They had all vowed never to speak of that moment again—at least not until many many years later when one of them needed blackmailing material.

After that day, Sam had been feeling well enough to help Charlie with looking after the other two. Dean was violently sick and doubly as grouchy as before. He was a horrible patient—even worse than Cas. At least Cas accepted everything Charlie and Sam pushed at him and tried to be good despite his awful capabilities at dealing with human sickness. Dean was just a nightmare and a half. 

So, it was no wonder they were all glad to see the stomach flu pass on. On the fourth day they were all well enough to sit on the porch and eat tomato rice soup together. Dean had grouched about Charlie’s—no beer until a week after puking—rule, but he had finally relented, still being too exhausted to argue much.

It was a subdued group that finally set out to the train station a week later. Charlie had insisted they stay until they were completely better. Dean still couldn’t fathom how she had escaped unscathed by the virus. But somehow she had managed it and he had to admit it was probably a good thing.

“Thanks for everything,” Sam said, setting his bag down so he could give Charlie a hug.

“Any time bitches,” she replied, smiling at all of them. “Just…try to make sure you’re healthy next time you stop in.”

“Will do,” Sam laughed and the three of them climbed onto the train.

“Well…that was one hell of a week,” Dean said as he flopped down into the seat across from Sam. “Cas’ first experience with puking though. So that’s exciting.”

Cas groaned and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Never speak to me of that unholy process again.”

“That…might be difficult,” Dean began, but was interrupted by a pointed look from his brother.

“Let’s just…not talk about it for a while, okay?”

“Yeah, probably best,” Dean chuckled.


End file.
